


A Spoonful of Sugar

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Headcanon, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-MTMTE, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can make it worth your while."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Spoonful of Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> tfanonkink response to [this request](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14540949#t14540949). I hope I got all the desired details down. I've never really written Deadlock, so... head's up there. Naturally, headcanon was applied to much of this--in the context of this particular fic, Ambulon is not yet a combiner and goes by his former name (not that it matters in here, since neither character address him by name.) But, there's that, too.
> 
> [Tumblr link](http://captainbaneberry.tumblr.com/post/128319888323/a-spoonful-of-sugar-baneberry-the-transformers): because a reblog is always appreciated! （●>ω・）ﾉ
> 
> かんぱい!

Ambulon had been warned his patient would be a... handful. Also a bit of a celebrity. But, it made sense he'd be a spoiled brat, then.

Ambulon had only seen Deadlock in pictures, but apparently he was a Big Deal. Powerful, deadly, with "homicidal" being an understatement. The moment Ambulon entered the sickbay, the Decepticon warrior immediately caught his attention. Mostly because he was violently spewing threats and fighting in the restraints pinning him down to the berth. The IV pump feeding him energon swayed and whipped about; Ambulon was surprised it hadn't been torn loose yet.

The medic took a moment to study Deadlock safely from across the medbay. There were four other patients in the room--they all looked extremely nervous. The staff would have moved them to another room, if there had been any free space. Two were hooked onto machines that could not simply be unplugged from the wall, either. So, they were forced to grin and bear it, stiff in their beds and afraid to move, lest Deadlock's killer rage turned on them.

Ambulon invented. Time for work.

The Decepticon was currently shouting colorful obscenities when Ambulon stepped up to his bedside, loudly speaking over him, " _Deadlock_." That shut his patient up, and fiery red optics threatened to burn holes into the medic's face. He plucked the chart from the edge of Deadlock's berth, reading it over. "Post-op surgery for punctured fuel pump, two actuator infarctions, multiple lacerations, and pauldron replacement." Ambulon's optic ridges climbed under his chevron. "Impressive."

"Get me out of these straps, you glitched Pit-spawned turbo-rat," Deadlock ordered, twisting his wrists in the tight restraints. "And I may leave you with only the ruptured fuel pump and actuator infarctions."

"You've been assigned four days bedre--"

"Did you not hear me clearly, doctor?" Deadlock interjected with a snarl. "I've been repaired. I'm fine. You're going to be the one in need of surgery if you _don't remove these fraggin' restraints_!"

Ambulon frowned, adjusting the IV. Deadlock jerked all his weight aside as the medic reached to test its hold to the socket in his chest. "You're going to reopen your wounds," the medic stated. "You need time to recover."

Deadlock responded with a furious growl, and one of the bands on the cuff around his right wrist snapped. Ambulon widened his optics, surprised. Those were heavy duty restraints, even Megatron would have been impressed.

Deadlock could see the flash of shock and mild concern in the medic's expression; his lips pulled back into a wicked grin. "I tried being nice, doc," he jeered.

Ambulon looked over his patient, then his chart. Too risky to sedate the mech without compromising his still healing defense matrix. Ambulon invented, pinching the bridge of his nose. "As much as I'd love to send you on your way," he said, and genuinely meant it, "I've been given strict orders to keep you here until--"

Another strap snapped.

Ambulon was getting a little miffed. Part of him wanted to just undo the damn things, let Deadlock punch him a few times then skip-hop back onto the battlefield where, during bathing in the blood of his enemies, his recently repaired fuel pump ruptured again and he slowly died a painful deactivation from internal hemorrhaging before he could locate a field medic.

It was really tempting.

But, as much as Ambulon wanted to be rid of the lunatic, he remembered what the CMO said. Deadlock was part of an elite taskforce, apparently; mumbled rumors said they were the Decepticon's response to the Wreckers. He didn't know. But one thing the CMO made _very_ clear: Deadlock was a V.I.P (very important patient), and Megatron's golden boy. If anything happened to him, the entire medical facility would suffer.

Deadlock was to receive the best treatment and utmost attention, even if it was against his informed consent--even if that meant someone lost a head in the process. He would not be discharged until everything was clear and running at 100%. Period. The Decepticons couldn't afford losing such a valuable soldier to risk a relapse; even if this meant Deadlock would be out of commission longer, they didn't care. He stayed in the sickbay until even the cosmetic injuries were buffed out and taken care of.

And if Deadlock left the medbay during Ambulon's shift, Ambulon wondered if death by Deadlock would be infinitely less painful than death by the Higher-Ups.

Another strap broke. A patient across the room gasped. Deadlock's fingers had torn grooves into the metal berth.

Shit.

Well...

"I can make it worth your while."

Ambulon blurted the words before he even knew what he was saying.

Deadlock, however, stopped struggling, regarding him with a half-curious, half-maniacal glower. "What are you implying, medic?" he growled.

Ambulon invented. If there was one thing a soldier didn't get much of during war... Ambulon sat the chart aside, his yellow optics powering down to a husky glow. His EM field released a pulse of unmistakeable lust, brushing with the pure fury radiating from his patient's frame.

Deadlock shuddered.

That was a good sign.

Then, Deadlock grinned--lopsided, mischievous, foreboding.

That was... a good sign?

"Are you offering to frag me in return for my compliance?" Deadlock sneered, amused.

Ambulon clenched his jaw. His optics flicked across the room, the four onlookers now suddenly interested in what was going on between the doctor and soldier. Ambulon risked pressing a hand to Deadlock's chest, dragging it down slowly. "It's a fair trade, I'd say," he hummed, just barely stroking a thigh.

Deadlock growled deep in his throat, engine giving a low rumble. That smile widened a little.

So far, so good.

"It's very tempting," Deadlock replied a moment later, chortling, "it's so pathetic, I almost feel like giving in out of sheer pity. Plus I could use a good laugh." He tilted his head, an almost quaint, friendly expression on his face. "But I don't like wasting my time, as you know. No frag is better than a bad one. Not very good for my temper. And not very good for your chances of survival."

The plates along the back of Ambulon's head flared with sudden agitation. He forced himself to remain aloof, however. Aloof, but sexy. It seemed to work, because Deadlock couldn't take his optics off his smouldering gaze.

"I'm an excellent doctor; I care about my patients," Ambulon murmured. Again testing the boiling, magma hot waters, he moved to climb up onto the berth. Deadlock did not resist, not even a tug at his restraints. Instead, he continued watching, definitely intrigued by where this was going, at least. Ambulon straddled his patient's hips, pouring himself over Deadlock and grinding pelvis against pelvis. "Therefore, I do whatever I can to ensure their recovery. That includes the best bedside manner."

Deadlock crooned, temperature spiking a notch. Ambulon could feel it; he wiggled down again, tauntingly rubbing codpieces together. Working out more of that thick heat.

"I can play along," Deadlock said, red optics bright, "but, seeing as I'm recovering, you'll have to do all the work."

Ambulon sat back. "Of course." He slid down, allowing Deadlock to free his pressurized cord. _Very good_ sign. "Seems I'm off to a good start." He carefully took the shaft in one hand, starting with a few experimental pumps.

Deadlock growled, arching just slightly off the bed. Ambulon worked the cord with more heavy, calculated thrusts, watching the way his patient's face contorted between frustration and sweet agony. Deadlock bucked his hips, wiggling into the hand with shameless need. Not that anyone was going to mock him.

Ambulon massaged the tip of the cord with his thumb, smearing a small bead of transfluid down the shaft in a thin line. He might have said something, but for fear of sending his patient flying off the deep end, he bit his tongue. These were blood-tainted waters Ambulon was wading in--and sharks circled him patiently, just waiting for one little slip-up to go in for the kill.

Deadlock made enough noise as is, anyway. Enough for the two of them. He chuckled, head rolling back. "A-Always heard medics h-had some extraordinarily s-skilled hands."

"You've no idea," Ambulon replied, wrist twisting with a sharp pump.

Deadlock almost yelped.

Ambulon cast a look to the door, prayed to Primus or Vector Sigma or whatever supreme being was out there that nobody walked in anytime soon. He knew the other patients were watching, but paid them no mind. Until their system monitors went off because one of them went into spark arrest, they'd be fine.

Ambulon slipped down the length of his patient's chassis, giving enough room to bend down; he clutched the bottom of the shaft before slowly taking the cord into his mouth. Deadlock hissed, hips jerking up again, grinding against the medic's face; Ambulon was undeterred. Tubes and mesh strained to accommodate the cord's girth as he slid it with almost expert ease down his throat, only to slowly pull it free with a heavy suck and drag of his lips.

Deadlock might have whined, but Ambulon wasn't going to point that out, either.

Ambulon took the cord in his mouth again, gave it a few heavy shallow pumps, tongue lapping the sensitive underside and sensory nodes lining the unit. Sighing, he sat back, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.

Deadlock cracked open an optic. "T-That all you got, medic?" he croaked. "Just when I thought you might be spared."

Ambulon sniffed. "Even I know that's not enough to sate you," he stated. He rose up on his knees, and Deadlock smirked at the streaks of lubricant leaking down his thighs from the edges of his closed port. Two fingers spread the paneling, and Ambulon groaned at the cool air against his exposed channel. Took another deep breath then angled himself over the cord, slowly lowering down.

Ambulon winced as Deadlock hissed, taking the cord a few inches at a time. It didn't take long for his port to adjust, more lubricant lining the walls of his channel. Both Decepticons moaned as Ambulon took the entire cord, right down to the hilt, inside him a minute later.

"F-Frag!" Deadlock gasped, teeth grinding.

Ambulon rolled his hips, both hands braced against his patient's chest. "T-That's the idea," he rasped, optics dimming. He lifted, half-way, before slamming down; Deadlock wasn't the only one who keened. Ambulon almost forgot about the audience for a moment there. Didn't matter, really; focus on the VIP. Focus on keeping him happy. Focus on not getting killed because he failed to keep him happy, or in mint condition.

God, like a toy still in the box, really. Deadlock must have been _really_ important. Ambulon had never used this method of persuasion before. And as he continued riding Deadlock's cord, the less he felt this was a bad idea. It broke at least ten different protocols, but they were Decepticons--laws schmaws.

Ambulon picked up the pace, wiggling down. He watched Deadlock, watched him struggle, studied that look of absolute pleasure on his face. Hands jerked in the restraints; this time wanting freedom for a different reason.

Ambulon wondered if Deadlock would crush his hips with the way he looked so damn intense.

Ambulon chanced a look back as he bounced gingerly in Deadlock's lap. One of his patients had rolled over, erect cord in his pumping hand. Another was content on watching. A third seemed to have fallen unconscious; either due to exhaustion from his injuries or the sight was just too much for his weak system. The fourth seemed less interested, but the way his optics flushed and frown twitched, Ambulon did detect a little bit of envy.

Let him be jealous. Let them all pine and sulk. He wasn't going to "prescribe" this "medicine" to anyone else. Not if he could help it. And as annoying as resorting to desperation measures was, Ambulon wasn't exactly moping or sulking. It was... rather nice, feeling the cord stroke and rub against those rarely touched nodes, sending ripples through his usually constricted EM field.

"P-Primus," Deadlock heaved, engine practically roaring. He swallowed, dryly. "Y-You're-- D- _Damn--_ "

Ambulon undulated his hips, rolling forward. "T-Take as--take as-- _ahnn_ \--" he whimpered, loudly, and Deadlock hungrily thrust inside him, "c-compliment." The tiny whimper of climax from behind him was also pretty flattering.

"Do this--for all your patients?" Deadlock teased.

Ambulon bent forward, massaging ceiling node against the top of the cord. "Nnnot really."

Deadlock chortled between chuffs. "I feel v-very special," he half-joked. "As should--be." He tilted his head again; the medic's lips were parted, cycling warm air from his whirring processors. "Wonder if your mouth--equally good. It looks like i-it has some experience."

Ambulon winked. "M-Mystery makes this all--all the more fun," he rasped. He sat back, shaky hands braced against Deadlock's legs; head lolling back with a loud, almost relieved moan. Damn, had it really been _this_ long? He chewed his bottom lip, optics squeezed shut; the chills from Deadlock's grinding cord had not yet settled.

"L-Let me," Deadlock scowled, tugging at the binding around his wrists, "t-touch you." He snarled, tugging harder.

Ambulon dropped his head forward. "B-Better this?" He brushed his fingers along the top of Deadlock's hand. Digits twitched in response. "Isn't this more--more fun?" He rose up, slowly back down the length of the unit, and the Decepticon warrior crooned.

"Not enough to s-save your pert aft," Deadlock taunted. Mostly.

Ambulon huffed. "Y-You'd rather I sit on your face?"

Well, that shut him up.

Ambulon reached between his legs, smearing lubricant off his thighs. He cautiously reached out his hand, and when it didn't seem he was going to get bitten, slowly ran his moist fingers along Deadlock's lips.

Deadlock purred, parted his mouth a little, inviting. Ambulon slipped the edges of two digits inside, down to the knuckle; Deadlock shut his optics, starting suckling at them. The moan vibrated through the medic's fingers, right down his backstrut and into his groin, resulting in a shudder and quick clench of his channel around Deadlock's cord.

Deadlock smirked around the fingers. Little punk.

Ambulon withdrew his his digits, once more dropping both hands to Deadlock's hips. Using them for leverage. He heard a distinct " _guh_ " from another thoroughly entertained patient.

It didn't take much longer before Deadlock threw his head back with a loud snarl, overload reaching the edge. It spilled over when the medic snapped his hips, clenched down on the cord again.

Ambulon winced, entire body stiffening as warm transfluid emptied inside him.

With a huff, Deadlock fell boneless, air rushing through his heated, tired chassis.

Ambulon remained sheathed on his patient, his own charge still crackling along his field. Nonetheless, he wasn't going to ask Deadlock for a hand. For two obvious reasons. Flinching, he rose back on his knees, transfluid running freely down his legs.

"I-I hope that--"

"Not done."

Ambulon widened his optics.

Deadlock leered. "Not. _Done_." His gaze fell to Ambulon's wet thighs.

Ambulon blinked, then slowly realized... Well, how nice of the psychotic killer. 

The medic smirked as he eased himself back, legs parting and displaying his port. Fingers traced the edges before two hooked inside, and Ambulon gasped over Deadlock's groan. "Consider this," he panted, rocking into his own digits, "a-aftercare."


End file.
